Hemeraldo watched Si-Woo carefully. "Are you okay, boy?" he asked, his deep voice softening slightly with concern.

Si-Woo finally took a full breath, his chest heaving as the weight of the earlier encounter slowly released its hold on him. "Yeah," he managed to say, though his legs still felt weak. "Although... I could barely stand."

Hemeraldo let out a hearty, rumbling laugh that echoed off the walls around them. "You're built like a coffin ox, boy," he said, clapping Si-Woo on the back with a strength that nearly made him stumble. "I’m surprised you’re still conscious. But be wary of that man. He’s not himself these days."

Si-Woo's brow furrowed, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Before he could press further, Hemeraldo's expression grew serious. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the nearby streets and shops. "Let’s go talk somewhere else," he said, lowering his voice. "It’s not best to speak of private matters in public."

With that, Hemeraldo led Si-Woo away, his towering frame parting the crowd with ease. They walked in silence until they arrived at Hemeraldo’s newly refurbished smithy. Si-Woo paused at the entrance, taken aback by the transformation. The building’s exterior had been elegantly redesigned by Ondur’s finest artisans, blending traditional craftsmanship with modern enhancements. Inside, an impressive array of weapons and armor glinted in the dim light, many crafted with shimmering serein stones.

"It’s a bit stuffy in here with all this new tech," Hemeraldo admitted with a touch of nostalgia. "But it truly is a wonder, isn’t it?"

Si-Woo nodded, awe-struck as he took in the sight. The craftsmanship was breathtaking, each item a testament to the skill and dedication of its maker. Hemeraldo guided him to a secluded corner of the smithy, away from prying eyes and ears.

"It’s good to see you, boy," Hemeraldo said, his gaze shifting to Z, who perched happily on Si-Woo’s shoulder. "And that bond of yours too."

Z let out a coo, nuzzling affectionately against Si-Woo, who smiled and said, "Thank you for earlier."

Hemeraldo nodded, his expression softening briefly before hardening again. Si-Woo's eyes met his. "What did you mean he’s not his usual self?" he asked, his voice low but intense.

Hemeraldo's eyes darkened, and he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "Mitstushiro... he was once driven by a sense of duty, harsh but fair. But lately, something’s changed. His ambitions have twisted. It’s as if something—or someone—is whispering poison in his ear, leading him down a darker path."

Si-Woo absorbed the words, the weight of them sinking in. "Do you think it’s connected to... everything happening with the anomalies and the Rankers' family?"

The blacksmith nodded gravely. "It’s likely. There’s more at play than meets the eye, boy. And you and your sister might find yourselves in the middle of it."

A heavy silence hung between them, interrupted only by the faint clinking of metal from the smithy. Hemeraldo’s warning lingered in the air, a reminder that greater challenges lay ahead—and that Mitstushiro Amreen was far more dangerous than Si-Woo had imagined.

Hemeraldo’s eyes softened as he changed the subject. “On another note, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about other matters,” he said, his gaze flicking over to Z. “You and your bond are destined for glorious heights, to overcome remarkable feats. So, it seems unfair for only you to have armor.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

I’ll create a custom armor set for Z when it’s ready to be ridden.”

Si-Woo's eyes lit up with excitement. "Thank you so much!"

The blacksmith grinned, a hint of pride and amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “No need to get all sentimental, boy. Just need to do some measurements and calculations on your little wyvern here. Let me borrow him for a sec.”

As Hemeraldo began measuring Z, who shifted curiously but obediently under his hands, Si-Woo’s attention was drawn to a framed picture hanging on the wall. It showed Hemeraldo standing proudly next to a strikingly beautiful fae with vibrant red hair that shone like embers. Si-Woo hesitated, then spoke softly, “I don’t mean to pry, but—”

Before he could finish, Hemeraldo interrupted, his voice gentle but tinged with nostalgia. “Her name was Iyani. She was my beloved wife for hundreds of years.” He chuckled, a deep and hearty sound that carried hints of both fondness and pain. “It’s a wonder she stayed with me for so long. I was a troubled young fae until she came along and put a leash on the beast within me.”

His smile slowly faded, replaced by a sorrowful gaze that seemed to reach through time itself. “Iyani was part of the military family’s guard of Yohen. A fierce and noble protector.” He paused, the weight of the memories settling over him. “One day, a group of beasts came rampaging through the outer forests of Yohen and to its borders. We fought them off... successfully, but not without loss.”

Hemeraldo’s voice grew heavy with grief, and he averted his eyes, focusing instead on Z’s tiny scales. “She was a hero. My hero. She fought for what was worth dying for. To this day, we still don’t know what drove the beasts into such discord and disarray.”

A heavy silence hung in the room, broken only by the crackling embers of the forge. Si-Woo, feeling the weight of Hemeraldo’s pain, placed a hand on the blacksmith’s arm. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Hemeraldo nodded, regaining a measure of composure. “Hold onto those you care about, boy,” he said, his voice low but firm. “The road ahead is full of trials, but you must keep fighting for what’s worth protecting.”

Z, sensing the tension, nuzzled against Hemeraldo with a soft, comforting coo. It brought a faint smile back to the blacksmith’s face, a reminder that even amidst the pain of the past, hope and new bonds could bring light to the darkness.

Hemeraldo, still adjusting the fit of his measuring tools on Z, turned to Si-Woo with a knowing glance. “You must not be taking the test this year,” he said, his deep voice carrying both curiosity and understanding.

Si-Woo nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and weariness wash over him. “I’m not ready yet,” he admitted. “Not the way I should be.”

The blacksmith regarded him for a moment, his piercing orange eyes searching Si-Woo’s expression. “Nothing wrong with biding your time,” Hemeraldo said. “Rushing into a storm without the proper armor is a fool’s errand. Better to temper yourself and strike when you’re forged strong enough.”

Si-Woo managed a faint smile. “I guess you would know best about tempering.”

Hemeraldo let out a booming laugh that echoed through the smithy. “That I do, boy. And if you think you’re alone in waiting, you’re mistaken. Even the mightiest weapons start as nothing more than raw ore.” He placed a reassuring hand on Si-Woo’s shoulder. “Your time will come. Just make sure that when it does, you’re ready to cut through anything that stands in your way.”

Feeling the strength in Hemeraldo’s words, Si-Woo nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hemeraldo said, his tone softening. “Now, let’s finish up here with your little companion. You both have a long journey ahead.”

Hemeraldo finished his measurements, carefully jotting down a few last notes as he gave Z a gentle pat. “All done, little one,” he said with a warm smile, and the whiteblood wyvern cooed happily in response. Turning to Si-Woo, the towering blacksmith extended a hand, his grip firm but kind.

“It was good to see you, boy,” Hemeraldo said, his deep voice echoing with a mixture of fondness and seriousness. “And remember what I said. You’ll be ready when the time comes.”

Si-Woo nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. “I won’t forget. Thank you, Hemeraldo.”

The blacksmith released his hand and stepped back, his imposing figure framed by the glow of molten metal behind him. As Si-Woo prepared to leave, Hemeraldo called out one last thing. “And make sure you give my greetings to your sister.”

Si-Woo smiled, a genuine warmth in his expression. “I will.” With that, he turned and left the smithy, feeling the weight of both hope and responsibility on his shoulders—but also the comfort of knowing he wasn’t facing it alone.